


Dead Derek

by invisible_nerd_girl



Series: Random Sterek shorts [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bloody, Dead Derek Hale, Doesn't quiet make sense, Feral Peter Hale, M/M, Mates, Mentions of grave robbing, Peter is crazy, Resurrection, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21887989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisible_nerd_girl/pseuds/invisible_nerd_girl
Summary: Stiles is attacked by Peter months after Derek dies in Mexico. He gets bit and doesn't see a way out until he starts hallucinating.(AU where Derek dies and then comes back because of Peter)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Random Sterek shorts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564270
Comments: 10
Kudos: 144





	Dead Derek

Stiles gasped as he hit the tree, his legs wobbling under him but they weren’t holding him up anymore. His body slid until he was slumped against the tree like a doll. He rolled his head to the side, looking over his shoulder to see the mass that was chasing him slow, stalking toward him with a confidence that came with his prey being cornered. 

“Fuck off.” Stiles tried to put menace into his voice but it just came out tired. He hadn’t felt anything since Mexico. That had been months ago. He knew the creature was Peter, that he was once again insane. He also didn’t really care. 

“Oh, little human. I liked you so much.” Peter leaned over him and pinned him to the base of the tree with a clawed hand. "But you took something from me." A hand dragged down his shoulder and he swung halfheartedly, but the wolf caught his wrist, twisting it in his grip. His other arm was jammed between the tree and a root from where he tried to catch himself. Stiles pulled back, forcing his body to calm even though he knew what was coming next. Teeth buried in his neck, not enough to kill him right away. Either he changed or he died. Peter knew he would probably die from this. 

“I hope you burn.” Stiles hissed, cutting to the core and the teeth ripped out, leaving him with a strange gurgling sound. It didn’t hurt, which was a first but it did make it harder to speak. Peter sat back with a satisfied look on his face but there was a snap nearby. 

“Mmm” Peter looked over his shoulder before chuckling. He stepped away and Stiles did a quick assessment, seeing if there was any way he could escape on foot but his entire body was going numb. There was a tingling from his throat and he wondered if it meant he was going to change to a wolf. He doubted it would happen before he died from blood loss. 

“I want you to have this as a reminder to what you did.” Peter purred, standing before him with a slightly bowed back as if he was fighting off his own wolf. He was holding a jacket and Stiles stared at it, trying to place the dark leather before horror filled him. His legs kicked uselessly as Peter approached, grabbing his hair to yank him forward. The stench of death surrounded him and he gagged as the jacket was placed over his shoulders. 

“Just kill me.” Stiles collapsed when Peter let go of him and tears rolled freely down his face. After everything that had happened to him, he’d never been so disgusted and heartbroken at the same time. 

“No, not yet. I think I’ll leave you.” Peter was looking over his shoulder again and Stiles gasped as he was kicked so his back was against the tree that stopped his flight earlier. 

“Leave me?” Stiles muttered, blinking at the suddenly empty clearing in front of him. He could hear something coming and he glared at the space between the trees. Why wasn’t he dead? He wanted the jacket off but his body was too tense. He wasn’t sure if the bite was taking or not but his throat was still bleeding freely and his heart was starting to ache for a totally different reason. He was getting tired, his eyes almost shut before he saw the movement. A chuckle slipped out in understanding as Chris stepped into the clearing, his eyes tracking the path he made in his attempted escape before landing on him, obviously caught and bitten.

Chris walked over carefully but Stiles managed to lift his hand, pointing in the direction that Peter took. The hunter nodded, his footsteps almost silent as he dropped to a knee next to him. Stiles didn’t really care what happened next, his eyes nearly closing again. He cried out softly as a hand grabbed his chin and tilted his head to the side, making a particularly thick layer of blood slide down his neck as it was bared for the hunter to see. His head was dropped roughly and the tingling spread, taking away more pain and he realized what was happening. The shock made his eyes open, turning to the hunter that was still there. 

Stiles swallowed roughly as the gun was pointed between his eyes, his blood staining his teeth but he could feel the power already flowing through his veins. Chris looked on coldly and Stiles bared his teeth, knowing they wouldn’t be inhumanly sharp as the man was used too. Just because he accepted his death didn’t mean that he couldn’t be himself on the way out. This wasn’t a redemption arc where he suddenly became humble and soft-spoken. He was still a confident ass, just broken.

“Do it! Like your sack of shit sister.” He hissed, his breath rattling in his chest but the look of fury flashed across the hunters face was reward enough for his efforts. That was, until Chris tilted his gun back, sneering down at him. 

“No. It’s a waste of a bullet. The bite is killing you already. I’ve heard it could take hours.” The man grinned in a manner that was nearly wolf-like before he looked off to where Peter had fled. “Thanks for all the help.” He strode away, onto the new prey and Stiles coughed, trying to take a breath to yell something after him but the scent of the jacket surrounded him. All that came out was another bubbling hack. Once his body was done convulsing, he collapsed against the tree roots and closed his eyes, leaning his head back. 

Stiles felt his wounds healing, the blood flowing from his neck slowing bit by bit. It was something he felt he had to write down, if he survived, for anyone to read if they wanted to take the bite. What was worse was the fact that his senses were already shifted, making him able to hear his own heart thumping weakly in his chest as it tried to work with its diminished supply of blood and the scent that came from the jacket still hanging off his shoulders. 

It hurt more than his wounds. It was as if all the months of Derek being gone, all the pain and grief he had felt during that time was sudden compressed to every moment that he took a breath. It wasn’t even the stabbing pain that he felt. It made him want to tear, to rip at something, even his own flesh if it meant it would leave him alone. For a second of relief from this, he would kill. In a heartbeat. Something in him understood Peter more than ever, but another part of him wanted to curl up, to never open his eyes again and wished he didn’t say anything to Chris. The hunter should’ve pulled the trigger. 

He didn’t know why this was breaking him. He knew what Derek smelled like. He went to the loft and stole the werewolfs pillow when they got back. He kept it hidden under his bed where no one could see it but everyone could scent it. It didn’t matter to him if they thought he was a freak. It helped him sleep on the worse of nights. Now that he was a wolf he could smell it under all the decomp. He couldn’t tell if it was harder to smell the jacket when he just knew that Derek was buried with it on, or being able to smell the life Derek lived on it just under the surface.

Now his body was torn in two. The violent side of him that wanted to fight and rage until the pain stopped and the quieter but just as powerful side that wanted to curl up and die where he lay. It ended with his body twitching oddly, first his legs and then his arms, leaving the feeling of ants running up his body as sweat started to trickle down. 

But now he was surrounded by the scent with the heavy hints of death that made his stomach roll and his skin crawl. It made him want to scream but all that came out was a whimper. Derek had been dead for months, without any sort of preservatives. Any human could tell the jacket had been wrapped around something dead, but it was killed Stiles. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but part of him wanted to stay alive long enough to hear what happened to Chris and Peter. Either way, one of them would die since that was the point of them going at each other. Part of him wished that they’d both finish each other off but it was unlikely. They were both too vindictive to die.

“Stiles, get up.” Stiles felt his eyes snap open but everything was a blur as his eyes burned. He could just hear Chris finding Peter in the distance, though he couldn’t care less now. He breathed deep, searching past the scent of the jacket and his own blood. There was nothing. Stiles turned his head in confusion, focusing his listening as he looked around, hoping to hear a heartbeat near him. There was nothing. No one could’ve talked to him. He was imagining Derek’s voice. That was the only explanation. 

“Get UP!” The Alpha in his wolfs voice made something new in him react more than anything he was feeling. More than the grief or anger. More than the pain and helplessness. He had to get up. Derek was telling him to. It didn’t make sense to him but suddenly he was standing with one hand pressed against the rough tree bark and he didn’t care. 

“Now move.” Stiles glanced around, but there was still nothing around him so he looked at the ground. He could see through the shadows like they weren’t even there, which made walking difficult. His exhaustion and blood loss was making his vision go, turning everything black and white even though the sun was shining brightly above him. 

He placed one foot in front of the other, taking a breath with each one as he walked away from the hunter and the werewolf. They were both talking, their voices laced with venom but he couldn’t make out the words. He wished they’d just go at it. After a few seconds, he drowned them out and focused solely on walking. The trees became his crutch as he walked, leaving bloody handprints as he moved.

The realization made him stop. Peter or Chris, which ever one survived, would be able to track him. He wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to get away. A pained whine came from his throat and he slammed against a tree, closing his eyes as his legs crumpled under him. 

Fingers brushed against his chin after a few second and he blinked rapidly. For a heartbeat he was sure he was seeing Derek crouched next to him, his mouth moving rapidly but he didn’t hear a thing. Then he blinked again and the image was gone. A whine came from his throat against his will and he jerked as a growl answered him. He tilted his head back to see a very bloody wolf stalking toward him before he fell limp with a groan. 

“Shit.” He hissed through his teeth as it shifted to a naked Peter. The werewolf shifted forward, a grin spreading across his face as he looked him up and down. 

“Well look at you. Not dying after all.” Peter purred out, reaching out with one hand to drag a finger down one cheek. Stiles snapped at it, twisting around to claw at him but the jacket caught his hand. The sound of tearing leather made him stop before his brain truly registered what it was but it was too late. Peter pinned him against the tree and he cried out, feeling claws dig into the back of his neck. Everything in him recoiled away from him, repulsed by the mere presence of the wolf. The change in him was already telling him on a whole new level that this wolf wasn’t right anymore.

“One can only hope.” He grumbled through the pain but the fingers tightened, shoving him down until he was sprawled out on the ground with Peter crouched over him. 

“Hmmm, well. You’re mine now, Little Beta. So, what should I do with you? I know what my nephew would’ve done. What you wanted him to do.” Stiles couldn’t help the pained sob that ripped from his chest when the name was finally mentioned but he shut down when Peters eyes flashed. “Don’t worry. I won’t fix your broken heart. It’ll just make this easier on you…. With your mate being dead already.” Peter leaned close to whisper in his ear and Stiles bucked against him in shock, trying to get him off. 

A gun shot rang out and Stiles screamed as he was splattered with warmth but he flipped over, dodging out from under the falling body. His feet slipped in the dirt as he tried to get up on two legs as he scrambled away. He reached a spot where there were bushes too thick for him to get through so he grabbed onto the branches, his free hand coming up to grab onto the jacket that started to fall from his shoulders when he realized someone was calling out to him. 

“Son!” His father grabbed his arm and he jerked back, twisting to take a swing at him before he realized who he was. His father dodged to the side, grabbing his other arm and holding it to his side so Stiles couldn’t escape. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Stiles glanced at the dead body that was surrounded by hunters and Deputies alike before he gasped, collapsing into his father in relief. 

“I thought he was going to get me.” Stiles whispered, clinging to him and buried his face in his fathers shirt. He could just scent that it was rank with stress and fear but the tang was slowly filling with relief as the old mans heart started to slow back down. It was minute paces, but it was still slowing. His father held him close, rocking him slightly before spinning them around and walking him away. Stiles staggered as he tried to get his feet to work after the sudden change in motion. He turned his head to the side and pressed is face against the jacket, closing his eyes against any thought. 

“What did he say to you?” His father asked carefully, and he lifted his head, blinking at him before looking back at the ground. He didn’t talk until he was sitting in the cruiser with his hands clinging to the jacket that was pulled back up. His father must not realize yet but Stiles was too weak to pull it off himself.

“He was… mocking the fact that… I.. Dad. I really liked Derek and he’s dead.” Stiles muttered, turning his head away as tears filled his eyes. “Peter knew, and said Derek liked me back but we never. We never even talked about it. We just watched each other’s back and now he’s gone.” He flinched when a hand landed on his knee and he looked down. 

“You loved him?” His father asked and he shrugged. He honestly couldn’t answer. What he felt was something he never felt for another person before. The intensity of it all, not just the butterflies that happened when he was around the wolf but the pride when he was a good Alpha and the strength that came with knowing when he turned around, that Derek would be there. Now he wasn’t and he felt like he was spinning in circles, still looking behind him to find what was missing. 

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. Now Peter is too.” Stiles knew he would have to face the fact that he was a werewolf. He didn’t feel the pull he knew he was meant to, to lead him to his Alpha. He didn’t feel it with Peter, but that was because he was repulsed by the creature. He figured Scott might happen but there was nothing. 

“Scott warned us something was wrong but he was in Mexico?” His father gave him a look but he just stared back blankly. There was nothing for him in Mexico. He was never going to be the same after they went there. After a few seconds his father sighed and reached out, pulling him into another hug. 

“I want the medics to look at you before you go and get cleaned up. Where does it hurt?” He reached up but Stiles jerked back, shaking his head. 

“I’m fine.” He lied, wrapping the jacket closer to himself despite the stench to cover his slow healing wounds and looked away from his fathers face. “I don’t think it’s my blood. I was just thrown around a lot and pinned down. Peter likes to play with his kills before he makes them.” 

“Stiles.” His father sounded like he was torn from killing Peter all over again and taking care of him. Stiles chuckled, wondering if he would resurrect himself again so his father would get a chance to do just that. 

“We should get this off you. It smells like death.” His father reached out but Stiles was staring at his hand. He knew his father wanted the jacket off and he wanted it off so he would stop smelling death, but his fingers wouldn’t let it go. 

“It was Dereks.” Stiles muttered, shaking his hand but it remained clinched around the leather. “We buried him in it.”

“How’d it …. Peter put it on you?” His father grabbed his hand and ripped it from the jacket, pulling it off and throwing it onto the roof of the cruiser. 

“Yeah. I don’t want to know how he got it. He blamed me for Derek’s death because Derek was trying to save our friends. He put it on me so I would know what I did to him.” His voice was automatic. Part of him wanted to stop it but it was taking all his control to not run for it. The hunters and deputies were surrounding the car to listen. He had to get out before the hunters found out that he was bitten. 

“He robbed his nephews grave to put the jacket on you?” His father sounded like he was going to be sick. The hunters looked a mix between worried and grossed out. One stepped forward. 

“We found a body in the forest that looks like….” The younger one trailed off and he rolled his head to look at him. 

“Chris Argent was there. I told him where he went so he could kill Peter and leave me but I don’t know what happened. When I heard Peter coming back for me, I tried to… to… God.” He closed his eyes and gagged. “Please, I need to shower. With bleach.” 

“Of course. Parish, take the jacket in your car.” His father closed the door and he flopped over, wrapping his arms around his middle. It took forever for them to get home but when the cruiser stopped, he launched himself out and ran up to the shower. He wasn’t even sure how he moved so fast but his wounds were mostly healed. It wasn’t too painful physically but now he had claws that nicked his skin in his urgency to get his clothes off. 

The water burned but it wasn’t enough. He grabbed as much soap as he could and started scrubbing. It was harsh but he couldn’t stop even as his skin turned bright red. His father waited outside the door. The water eventually turned cold and his body gave out from the shock of everything. Stiles slumped against the cold shower wall and curled into a ball. He was completely silent but his father slipped in.

“Son, I… I don’t know all what’s going on, but I do know that it’s been like this for a while.” His father sat next to him on the ground outside the shower and he slowly uncurled. The wolf in him recognized that his father was part of his pack, even if he didn’t know it. This wasn’t a talk he was willing to ever have with anyone. So, he compensated with one he knew they had to have.

“Dad, Peter bit me.” He’s voice came out as a whisper and his father was silent. “He was a werewolf. He bit me. I can feel it. I can hear your heart beating right now and I don’t know what to do.”

“So, the hunters were right.” Stiles flipped over and pressed himself back against the edge of the shower at his fathers words, staring at him in pain. 

“Right?” He coughed out and his father jumped up, reaching out and grabbing him into a hug. 

“They are only right that they exist, nothing more.” His father held him out at arms-length before pulling him into a hug again. Stiles cringed at the feel of wet clothe against his over sensitive skin. The closeness had his wolf rearing his head, forcing him to reach out before he could stop himself.

“I missed him. I missed him so much and it doesn’t make sense to me because we didn’t even talk about it.” Stiles held on and closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do to fix this. He felt like dying himself, but he didn’t have enough energy to do anything about it. 

“How about we get you to bed?” His father was already pulling him to his feet and he grunted, getting his legs under him. He leaned against the wall as his father wrapped a towel around him before moving off with his legs trembling under him. 

“You should call Deaton.” Stiles gritted his teeth as his stomach rolled. It felt like his was still under the hot water flow and he leaned forward so he could collapse into his bed. 

“Deaton?” His father kneeled by the bed and pulled a blanket over his back. Stiles turned his head to look at him with difficulty and flashed a weak smile. 

“He knows about wolves. There’s something different about this and I don’t really know what I should do right now other than sleep. He can answer some of your questions.” His eyes had closed before he had finished talking and even though his mouth was moving, he wasn’t sure he could hear his own words. The nothingness took him, but it wasn’t peaceful.   
===================================================================  
Stiles woke up to something warm around his middle and in the dark. He blinked rapidly before rolling over to see Derek. The wolf was fast asleep but Stiles wiggled until he could wrap himself completely around him and closed his eyes, breathing deeply to get his live, heathy scent into his lungs to replace the stench. He didn’t want to remember. 

“I’ve missed you, asshole.” He whispered and shuttered as Derek shifted, his hands coming up to fist the blanket behind his back and used it to pull him closer. 

“I’m so sorry. I knew there was something. I just didn’t know you were my mate. I’m so sorry I left you like this.” Derek lifted his head and Stiles instantly locked eyes with him. It felt like he was falling and he leaned into it, receiving a soft kiss. It was a mere brush of their lips.

“I need sleep.” He pulled back before they could do anything else and dropped his head onto his pillow. Derek tilted his head back and nuzzled against his chin before doing the same. 

“I’ll fix this.” Derek muttered and he huffed. There was no way that Derek could fix this. He was dead. It should concern him that he imagined this so severely that he could feel the fingers brushing through his hair and the warmth he felt just being close. 

“I’m sorry.” Stiles blinked and it was suddenly light out. His bed was empty. For a single heartbeat Stiles couldn’t take a breath but then he was gasping painfully as tears started rolling down his face. 

“Stiles, I’m here.” His father grabbed his shoulders and wrapped him up. It was nothing like when he was with Derek but it helped calm him.

“Stiles, how are you feeling?” He looked over to see Deaton sitting at his desk with a file open. 

“Uh, like” He stopped and thought about it. “I’m hurting.”

“And why do you think that is, though I suspect that it’s not just because of the bite.” Deaton looked over his files at him and he narrowed his eyes at him. His father patted his cheek and he realized he had bared his teeth and the air filled with the sound of his low rumbling. 

“I’ve heard Deatons theory and you just need to hold on. A little longer, that’s all I need you to do.” The sheriff held onto him and he grunted as his snarl stopped as what little breath he had was hugged out of him. 

“How can it be better? It’s… my mate.” He felt a bitter taste on his tongue when he spoke and stuck it out in attempt to get rid of it. 

“I know. It’s amazing that you lived through that. So, I have to ask, did you hear him” Stiles jerked his head up and stared at the man before glancing at his father out of the corner of his eyes. “Or see him or …. Have you experienced anything that could connect you to Derek at all?”

“I heard him” Stiles took a second to swallow back on the bile still forcing its way up his throat and closed his eyes. “After Peters first attack, after the bite. I started to die. I could feel it in my blood but I heard Derek’s voice. His Alpha voice yelling at me to get up and then I was standing. He told me to run and I did. I tried to get out of there. I tried to get safe because he told me too. I was losing my mind from the pain and it was too much. I just wanted to find him. When I couldn’t” He stuttered and closed his eyes. “I fell against a tree because everything just broke. I couldn’t find him. Peter was going to find me or Chris would. I thought I was going to die. I saw him talking to me. I don’t know what he was saying but I saw Derek talking. Yelling at me! And then Peter was pinning me to the ground.” Stiles shook his head to clear it and realized his father was crying. 

“What else?” Deaton was stiff as usual, and Stiles focused on it. 

“Just now.” He closed his eyes and leaned against his father in attempt to comfort him. “I dreamed that he was here. Just here, resting with me. It felt like the wolf in me was tame. Like I was healed and he was alive and that I wasn’t hurting. He was apologizing for leaving, like he could’ve done something to save himself. It wasn’t possible. He was here.” Stiles pulled his arms away from his father and looked down at them as if they still held his mate in them. “He was in my arms and promised he wasn’t going to go. I could feel him. See him! He was answering me. But he’s not….” He curled in on himself, agony raging through him as he still felt the faint warmth from his mate resting in his arms. He wasn’t sure what noise he made but it was the sound of a breaking heart and his father patted him helplessly.

“Stiles, I do believe I need to make a few calls and that you need more rest. Sheriff stay here. Parish will deal with the hunters. You make sure Stiles sleeps. When he wakes up, make sure he knows who he’s talking to.” Deaton stood and walked out the door. 

“I hate when he does that,” Stiles grumbled before rolling over, so he was curled against his father. 

“Yeah, I noticed.” His father tucked him under his chin and he took a shuttering breath. 

“I think I’m losing my mind.” He whispered. It ached but he could feel his wolf pulling at him to leave. It was too much. His eyes rolled in the back of his head and he passed out.   
============================================================================  
Stiles woke to the sound of the front door closing and he sat up. Something was different. He could hear everything and his body felt fine, but he had to get downstairs. His chest didn’t even ache like it did, though there was a pull that made him want to move. He swung his legs to the side of his bed and pulled a pair of sweats closer so he could pull them on. His body held him easily and he walked out of his room, heading downstairs to where he heard heartbeats. 

“He’s up.” Scotts voice was the first one he managed to focus on just before he walked into the room. He looked around at his pack and family before making up his mind and turning back around and walking back toward his room. 

“Must be seeing things.” He muttered under his breath. He was halfway up the stairs when arms wrapped around him. Stiles shut his eyes immediately, not wanting to see the evidence. “Let me go.” His voice was less of a human and more of a growling wolf and a soft whine came from behind him as a face pressed between his shoulder blades. 

“Stiles, I told you I was coming back.” Derek spoke into his back and he huffed, shaking his head. 

“You’re dead. I know you’re dead and I just lost it from the bite.” He swallowed roughly as the whine increased. A morbid curiosity rushed through him and he took a steady breath before turning around. He kept his eyes closed and heard a skip in the wolfs heart. Nothing happened for several strained seconds before he felt a nose bump against his and he blinked open in shock. He was staring at Derek face, whose eyes were traitorously closed and he took another breath, this time checking to see if it was what he remembered. It was like he was breathing in his home after being gone for an entire shitty day where nothing went right. A smile flickered across his face at how Derek was carefully standing on the same stair as him so they were the same height.

“Stiles, please.” Dereks own eyes stayed closed. Stiles felt something unwind in him as he gazed at the face and he dropped his forehead onto his mates. His eyes opened immediately, and took him in.

“I’m here too, I’ll be here.” He whispered. There was no telling what was going on, but this was his Derek. The wolf in him roared in delight as he snatched him close. For the first time since the bite, he lost complete control of his wolf. He rubbed his chin along his neck, chuffing grumpily at the fact that his scent wasn’t already there before happily scent marking his cheeks with his own. The stubble was rough but it wasn’t enough to deter him, nor was the fact that the rest of his body was doing the same thing. Chest to chest and his arms petting anything he could reach. He might have had a leg hiked up to hook him closer at one time. 

“Er, I …. The wolf.” Stiles pulled back after his wolf was thoroughly pleased that their shared scent but Derek grabbed his chin. He blinked up in a busted manner but all that happened was a small kiss on his lips. 

“There, all covered.” Derek leaned so his nose brushed his cheek and down to his neck. “Very good.”

“Oh I hate you.” Stiles shoved at his chest and the wolf moved back easily. His face was beaming as it came into view before he sagged. Stiles felt his own energy lag so he tugged on his arms. Without a word he led him to his bed.   
==========================================================================  
Deaton woke them later that day. Stiles growled at him until Derek smacked him repeatedly and he huffed, snarling silently when the druid sat at his desk. 

“I’m assuming you want me to explain what Peter was attempting and what happened.” Deaton spoke more to Derek than him but he knew it was because Stiles was being hostile. He didn’t care. The druid was in his room, his personal territory where he just brought his mate back to safety. True, it was just walking him upstairs but his wolf felt pride in the action. 

“I suspect it’s what brought me back to life.” Dereks voice was stiff and Stiles tilted his head back, stopping to think on everything that had happened. He hadn’t paid much attention through the pain. 

“Is that going to have consequences? Like attract death or someone we love die?” Stiles shot a worried glance at his mate and the wolf froze, a wide-eyed look on his face. 

“Not quiet.” Deaton lifted his hands in a calming manner before grabbing the folder that was left from before. “Peter was trying to do a very dangerous spell, yet simple. Your father explained the attack to me, and am I right in assuming that he changed tactic halfway through, opting not to kill you right away?” 

“I guess. He killed Chris and found me again. He said I wasn’t going to die from the bite and basically that he was going to keep me.” Stiles stopped when Derek let out an enraged snarl and he leaned back, waiting for him to finish. 

“Now, the spell switches lives. A dead body must be filled with life, and that life is more often that not, taken by force by killing another once the spell was started. Peter started the spell in Mexico and came here to kill Stiles so your lives would switch. Derek would be alive for as long as Stiles would’ve lived, and Stiles would be dead.” Deaton paused, watching to see if they understood but they both just stared back. 

“The spell itself is old. But there are restrictions on it. A mate cannot switch places with a mate. The risk of a pair repeatedly giving their lives for each other could cause problems to say the least.” Deaton gave them a knowing look and Stiles gave him his best shit eating grin in response. 

“I can see that. But we’re both still here.” Derek pulled him closer and Stiles huffed out a breath, still not completely healed. 

“Indeed. Chris was killed first.” Deatons statement hung in the air and a giggled slipped from Stiles lips at the irony. The family that spent so long trying to kill Derek, the man that had left the Alphas mate to die from the bite in the woods, had all the years he was going to live taken from him and given to Derek to resurrect him. The last Argent saved a Hale.

“This one does twist in the mind.” Deaton turned his attention to him finally and Stiles nodded along, to elated at the news to care that he was somehow acceptable by the druid again. 

“So Peter killed Chris first and decided to keep Stiles instead.” Dereks voice was something he never wanted to hear again but his face was dark.

“Most likely to keep you in line.” Deaton nodded before shrugging at Dereks low warning growl. It was much more impressive than Stiles. “We can only assume.” 

“But why could I hear Derek? I saw him during the attack and here in bed.” Stiles ended up blushing at the last bit even as he spoke and said wolf pressed a kiss against his cheek. 

“I believe it was the jacket. There were, uh, bits of Derek still on it and with such a powerful spell, it locked you both together. You were calling out to Derek, and he responded by telling you to move. Derek is an Alpha now and he could make you listen, and you are his mate so the connection was even stronger. Even after you were both washed up, you’ll be able to call out to one another and communicate.” Deaton seemed to try to and cover up the more gory parts of what happened but it wasn’t lost on Stiles, making him recoil and remember the smell of his mates demise. 

“No, Stiles. It’s not that… It’s pretty bad.” Derek turned away from the Druid and practically picking him up to drag him close. 

“It was horrible.” Stiles buried his face in his mates chest and focused on breathing in the life. “Good thing I have an anchor huh?”

“I don’t want to see the town if you ever loose me.” Derek pulled back with a face and Stiles chuckled darkly. 

“Nor I you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think. XP (I think I'll make a happier short next time.)


End file.
